Dragon in Paradise 2
by YFWE
Summary: Chapter 3 updated! In a nutshell, we find out that FedEx hates RV Parks, big rig tires become fashionable, and Spud falls in love. Too bad he's too delirious to realize she's probably being sarcastic.
1. A Forward

Hola, amigos! YFWE here with a brand-new story! And a sequel at that! I present to thou... Dragon in Paradise II!

A bit of background info before we begin- this is a follow-up to my '05 fanfic Dragon in Paradise, which is my most popular to date and as I type this is the longest ADJL fanfic. (Although its title should soon be taken away by Australian Dragon's The Tomorrow That May Never Come. Highly recommended. XD) It's a comedy, I guess. I mean, you pretty much have to have a warped sense of humor that is identical to my own. Some of you will think that this is the stupidest thing you've ever read. Some of you might think it's the weirdest. Truth be told, I suppose I'm shooting for both. XD This fic will lack much common sense... but at the same time will have a side story- kind of like DIP did, that involves a villainous character/presence and such. So anyway... I'm hoping to have this fic done by September; about as long as the first DIP lasted. I'm also wanting this fic to be really long; 100,000 words would be cool. A bit unreachable, it seems. But still...

This is your last warning. If you don't like it, too damn bad. I was told last story that it was a disgrace and should be taken off Let me tell you now, it won't happen. So don't tell me to. I will continue writing this, no matter what anyone says. You could like it, you could hate it... I could care less which path you choose. Of course, liking it is, um, good... but... your choice.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long or any of its characters. One day when I'm old and rich like Donald Trump, maybe I can buy it. But until then, I own nothing except for the computer I am typing on. ALL beliefs DO express the opinion of the author. It could, at times, get quite politically driven. What can I say; I hate the US government. If your favorite pop culture icon is somehow degraded in this fanfic, too damn bad. Go cry to them, not me. Remember, I warned you. If you do not follow the disclaimer, Chuck Norris will come to your house.

HI!

Dragon in Paradise 2

YFWE

Chapter One- A Forward

It has been said that Spring Break is the greatest academic achievement in the history of the public school. They say it is a refreshing break, one that gives you time to relax and reflect on your school year thus far as you head into the home stretch, although, of course, no one likes to think about school while they're on vacation.

But, frankly, who gives a damn about Spring Break when there is Summer Vacation!

Summer vacation is an extended three month break from school that is not only a great way to enjoy summer, but is also the public school's own little way of sticking it to the preppy year-round schools.

Spring Break and Summer Vacation are closely related. They both depict the struggles of the everyday student finally succeeding and getting out of the hellhole they call their school. Of course, one is longer than the other. Which is why Summer Vacation is better. Believe me, I know. Chuck Norris told me so.

It is because of the idea of Summer Vacation looming upon us that we as students decide to get a bit more carefree in the days leading up to the final bell of the school year. Of course, some places still have exams before school lets out. And let's face it- exams suck. They're like Sierra Mist- so evil, so inferior to Sprite and the Coca-Cola Company in every which way.

That, however, is a whole other story.

At any rate, the end of the school year partying was in full session at Jake Long's school. This included, but was not limited to: making fun of Millard Fillmore (for whom the school was named for), defiling the school in general (especially the cafeteria, where lunch ladies were put into hiding as food fights became a common occurrence, usually started by that one fat kid who ends up hiding in the bathroom while the fight is going on anyway. He's in there with the demented little anorexic girls that are vomiting the hamburger they ate five minutes ago. Haha... isn't school grand?), among other things. It was also a time in which you could do a lot to the teachers, especially the older ones that would forget about your 'incident' with the choir's piano and the second-floor glass window that overlooked the school entrance by the time the next school year came around. The days leading up to Summer Vacation are... a time of rejoicing, repenting, and, um... insert your own verb that starts with the letter 'r' there. Please. The story cannot go on if you don't.

See, aren't you glad that you did that? It makes you a better person overall, doesn't it.

Ever fallen out of your computer chair?

I just did. But that's not the point. Someone please get out a whip so I can stay on task, else I'm never going to finish this story.

Maybe I'll just go get some Neosporin and let the characters talk. It is they that you should be listening to, not I. Even if I am so awesome that I carry on conversations with myself regularly. I'm sure I'm not alone. Man, I get the greatest ideas when I listen to myself... maybe George Bush should listen to himself sometime and not Dick Cheney.

Oh, there I go again with denouncing the US government again. I swear, one of these days, the CIA is going to show up at my door.

Anyway... cue Spud!

"Yo, Jake, wait up!" Jake heard his best friend Spud call from behind him. He paused, giving Spud some time to catch up, before setting out on his way again.

"Can you believe it, dude? Last class of the school year! AND the last year at this damn school before we move up to high school! Let me ask you again- can you believe it?"

"Sure can, Spud," replied Jake, "this year has gone by so slowly... as a matter of fact, so has this week. I guess that they're lying when they say 'Time flies by when you're having fun.'"

They concluded that it was another lie told by the US government.

"So anyway... we got Rotwood's class last... how do you think he'll be... you know, it being the last day and all, and the school still hasn't renewed his contract..."

"Well, don'tcha remember what he did to us before Spring Break!" Trixie Carter chimed in as she joined the two on their way to class. "Some kind of essay on the history of the public school! The one that JAKE here didn't even do!"

Jake blushed slightly.

"AND," Trixie continued, "he also tried breaking into your Grandpa's shop. Well, technically, he DID break in. But we stopped him," she grinned.

"You know what? Let's not even think about the guy," Spud said, "...even if he is the teacher of our next class. There isn't possibly anything he could do to ruin our day... not even if he slipped some cocaine in my pants and set Whitney Houston loose!"

"Dunno... this is basically what we said last time and he gave us a huge essay," said Jake. "Let's not underestimate him this time..."

(End)

As it turned out, underestimating Rotwood did not play into the picture. Jack Nicholson did. But to this day, I don't know why. I think he's stalking me.

Anyway...

Rotwood was not even there. Turns out that he wasn't even in the country. Although many had hoped that his visa had expired and he was deported back to Germany or wherever-the-hell he was from, the substitute said that he was simply on his way to the airport to go back home to Europe for the vacation. Of course, he could've just been lying.

The US government does that a lot, too.

Anyway...

So perhaps they were going to actually make it through the day without obtaining any over-vacation homework assignments. There had been no threat in their other classes; all their other teachers stayed in the middle school, so thus they would not have their class the next year. However, Rotwood not only taught for Junior High, but for the High School as well. Probably some kind of Nazi conspiracy. You never know, though.

But, as it turned out, Rotwood was still there in... er, presence. Reason I say this is because of what happened next.

"Class, my name is Mr. Denorfia. I enjoy the smell of car fumes and long walks on sandy beaches filled with broken beer bottles and the carcasses of dead fish. But enough about me... let's talk about you all... and your wonderful 10 page essay on how great of a teacher Professor Rotwood is!"

This made Jake madder than me when I got stuck in a traffic jam because of a damn gay pride rally. Not that I have anything against them... just don't get in between me and my Bagel Lovers. I like bagels like Paul Wall likes his grillz.

That, also, is another story...

So obviously, Rotwood had brainwashed this substitute into doing his bidding. Either that or he had just left some lesson plans. Both are pretty evil. Luckily, though, they did not have to start on the essay at that moment, giving Jake, Trixie, and Spud time to talk. What about? Well, see, normally, the trio would plot Rotwood. But because he wasn't there, they decided on something much bigger, so important, so crucial to the very being of the friends that not speaking of it could throw off the whole balance of the world altogether.

And no, it's not about chronic masturbators. Sickos.

I'm talking about what to do on summer vacation.

Which brings me to my original point- summer vacation is better than Spring Break. I don't exactly know how that brings me back to my original point, but I DID stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night.

I told you this was going to be the most off-topic and stupid story you've ever read. But hey, so was the original. No wait... that one actually had a plot.

A...n...y...w...a...y...

There I go again with talking about myself. It's the characters we should be speaking of. Even if they are boring as hell and are probably plotting against me.

"So... what are you guys doin' over vacation?" Jake asked, although he was a little uninterested. Just something to break the ice, I suppose.

"Nothin', really," replied Trixie. "Mom and Grandma are goin' to Atlanta next week, and they said that I didn't have to go... and to tell you the truth, I don't want to."

Jake nodded in recognition. "How 'bout you, Spud?"

"Dude, I've never even been outside the city!"

Jake sighed. "I'm not doing anything either. Guess that means we're stuck together all vacation... but there's only so many things you can do in three months, y'know?"

"Well, I've always wanted to surf in New York Harbor...," Spud chimed in.

Trixie met this statement with a slap to his head, "Dammit, Spud, you tried during Spring Break and had to get rescued by the Coast Guard. Is that what you want?"

"They WERE nice people... once they realized I wasn't a European immigrant!"

"Why would they think that?" asked Jake amusingly. He hadn't been there, of course... he (Refer to DIP) had been fighting some local monster/demon/bar owner in the Bahamas. Which is where I wish I was right now. You can't always get what you want. But now you CAN make a collect call by dialing down the center at 1-800-CALL-ATT. It's free for you and cheap for me.

"Well, I was floating in this shopping cart that I stole from this homeless guy," Spud started. "Only cost me a few dollars, too. Then Mr. T started chasing me, and then I, like, vaulted over a police car and fell into the harbor. Somehow, the shopping cart stayed afloat. That told me right off the bat that it wasn't a crappy shopping cart. Which means it didn't come from Wal-Mart. So then I was floating toward the Statue of Liberty when the Coast Guard intercepted me. That's the story."

"Wow, Spud, you're, um..."

"There is no word for me, dude," Spud patted Jake on the back. "Don't even try."

"I'll take that advice to heart, thanks."

And with the ringing of the bell, that ended the school day. And the school year, for that matter. It was officially time for a three month period of absolute nothingness. Or so Jake and his friends thought. Of course, none of them knew what Grandpa had in store at his store. That made me laugh for some reason. You know what else makes me laugh? When I get negative story reviews. I'm sure I've got a few by now.

Ladies, gentlemen, and migrant farmers- the symbolic group of letters you are about to view are both highly lucrative and highly dangerous. It symbolizes the end of a group of ideas. Or lack thereof. It should be approached with caution. For your safety, I have added parentheses to it. Thank you for your time and you sunk my battleship.

(End)

"Yo, Gramps. You here?" Jake called as he pushed open the door to his shop, Trixie and Spud in tow.

"Er... Grandpa's not here!" called Grandpa's voice.

"Didja hear that, guys?" asked Spud. "He's not here. Let's go."

Jake sighed. So did I. Why do people think that if they say that they're not there, but it's their own voice talking, then someone will actually believe that they're not around? Well only someone like Spud would believe that. And George W. Bush, I'll bet. I might go find out later; I'll take a rain check on that.

Grandpa's voice was coming from his garage. Didn't know he had a garage? Neither did I.

The three of them stepped through the narrow doorway into the kind-of-wide-open-but-not-really garage, and just stood there in awe. Not because I was standing there. They'd be bowing down if I was there. That's how we roll.

It was because of the large vehicle that was there.

An RV.

AKA, what Mark Hamill lives in. Don't we all, though? Wait, no, we don't. Never mind.

"Gramps... what's... this?" Jake asked in amazement.

"Were you not listening to anything the author just said, young dragon? It's an RV!"

"Yeah, but... why do you have it?" Spud asked.

"Simply put, Fu and I are embarking on a trip to San Diego, California for the Annual Dragon Council Meeting. They've finally come to their senses and have scheduled it in America."

"Oh...," Jake said. "So... why wasn't I invited? I AM the Am Drag and all..."

"The Council advises against children at this meeting," Fu appeared from the passenger window of the RV, "Something about what the Brazilian Dragon and the Chilean Dragon getting into a heated- literally- argument and blowing up some stuff in the Middle East. See, the US government told you all that it was air strikes. But, of course, that was a lie. Kind of like Adam Sandler does when he tries to be funny... he's lying; he's not really that funny. But that's a story I can tell you kids when we get back!"

"Wait!" Jake exclaimed. "Gramps... if we promise to not cause any trouble... and not even go to the meeting... could we go with you guys?"

Grandpa made a thoughtful face. He seemed to be deeply considering this. Or maybe it was the bowl of chili he got for $3 at Tim Horton's. Either one.

Finally, he sighed. "As long as it is okay with your parents..."

This made Jake happier than me when the gay pride rally ended and I got to Bagel Lovers.

I like bagels.

"Thanks, Grandpa! Oh, wow, this is gonna be great! It's gonna be like a... like a... road trip!"

And thus our story begins. Wait... it's already begun. Kind of. Unless this was a prologue. Maybe it's just a dream. If so, then that means I can type while I sleep. THAT could come in handy.

As I was saying, our story begins here. Jake, Trixie, Spud, Fu, and Grandpa shall embark on a perilous journey, filled with detours, lost road maps, and 99 cent buffets at the gas station. And who knows? Maybe there is someone that perhaps does not want them to get to the meeting. Something evil. Something sinister.

And it's not the US government. If you thought I was going to say that, then you're thinking more and more like me. I shall control you all... soon.

So... now this question looms...

How are five people going to live together in an RV for the next however-many days? Sounds to me like the next great reality show.

END CHAPTER

Like, L-O-L... 'tis finished. That was quite fun, in my opinion. I hope you thought so too. So... if you feel as if you've been cheated of a few minutes... too bad. Like I said, I have no control over your actions. It was your choice to read it. So don't blame me. So... look for the next chapter soon! May the Schwartz be with you!

YFWE


	2. The Adventure Begins

Let me ask you something: can a story ever possibly be TOO random and pointless? Er... looks like I proved that in the first chapter. And because of such things, I've decided to revert DIP2 back to a more DIP1-esque setting. In other words, this chapter will begin to develop a plot. So without any further ado, I bring you, um... it!

Dragon in Paradise 2

YFWE

Chapter 2: The Adventure Begins

It has been said that four humans and a dog inside an RV for 'x' amount of days can equal pure chaos.

However, Jake, Trixie, Spud, Grandpa, and Fu are out to try and reverse this trend.

So is Jack Nicholson. But not really. I only put him in there because I owe him for watching 'Anger Management,' which I hated more than Mr. T hates fools.

So the day after the whole trip was planned, it was time for packing. According to Grandpa's announcement the previous night, the 'bus would be leaving at nine o'clock sharp, in the morning.' It would wait for absolutely no one.

It was because of this that Jake Long was a bit rushed that morning. You see, although he had set his alarm for seven, it had never gone off and thus he woke up at eight, with only an hour to get ready. It's quite likely that the US government had something to do with this. You never know, though.

Thus, the yells and cries that reverberated from the walls in Jake's home were quite familiar for the next hour. (I could say something really sick there but won't.) You see, Jake had not 'planned ahead' as the Travel Channel tells you to, and coincidentally, he had not done the least bit of packing. And without knowing exactly how long they were to be gone, it could be a very hard thing.

"Mom, I can't find my afro comb!" Jake yelled downstairs that morning as he packed.

"What exactly do you need an afro comb for, young man?" Mr. Long asked as he walked up the stairs to Jake's bathroom. "Better yet, why do you have one?"

"Um... it's for Trixie?" Jake half-lied. 'Cause it technically was Trixie's comb from about two years before, when she had this humongous afro atop her head. Because both Jake and Trixie knew that his parents would never allow him to get a 'fro, they figured that the most opportune time to get one would be over this road trip, when he would have no parents to 'bring him down' and disallow his new choice in hairstyle. Of course, Fu and Grandpa would still be there... but they'd get used to it- especially considering that Fu once had one himself.

At around this time, Jake began to wonder to himself if Trixie had lice. 'Cause that would blow more than... you know what, never mind that.

Anyway, before I get too off topic, let's get back to... the afro comb, yes. Sounds like a Seinfeld episode, doesn't it?

"Hm... okay, but as long as it's Trixie's...," Mr. Long concluded. "I guess it's okay. But let me tell you, mister- if I find out that you were using the comb, you'll be grounded quicker than you can say 'Shake dat laffy taffy.'"

"Dad... promise me you'll never say that again."

"I ain't frontin' no promises, homie J," Mr. Long said... gangsta-like.

"Uh... word?" said Jake.

"Hey! There will be none of that talk in this house!" Mr. Long yelled.

"Wait... what the h- you just..."

"Here's your afro comb" Haley interrupted, skipping into the bathroom gleefully (I mean, wouldn't you if your older brother was leaving for a while?) and handing the comb to Jake, "I was using it to try and unstick my piano keys after YOU spilled your Sprite on it!"

"Hey, what can I say? Beethoven and Sprite don't mix!" said Jake half-defensively.

Haley and Mr. Long left hastily, and Jake trotted to his bedroom, where the rest of his things were already packed.

Ironically, the moment he walked inside, his cell phone rang.

"Hello?" Jake asked after rushing over to the phone and almost missing the call.

"Jake, it's me," came a voice on the other end.

"Who's 'me.' Be specific."

The voice sighed. "It's Ben Affleck."

"Ben Affeck! Whoa... how did you get my cell phone number?"

"It's Spud, dammit!"

"Spud? Well, why didn't you say it was you? Man, you sound different... what's up?"

"Well," Spud started, "I'm just nervous, that's all. I guess I really don't know what to pack."

"Nervous? Of packing?"

"Nah... dude, I've never been out of the state of New York before."

Silence on the other end of the phone.

"It's not that big a deal, Spud... it's all still America..."

"...minus the smog," Spud added.

"You'd miss it?"

"I dunno... I just can't picture a world with clean air. Only in the movies."

"Whatever, dude," sighed Jake. "Look, you need to pack clothes, a toothbrush... soap, shampoo... something to do... eh, that's really it."

"Do we need accelerant?"

Yet another silence on the end of the phone.

"What?"

"Well, you never know when you need a good fire..."

"Spud...," Jake stated in partial disbelief, "I'm gonna speak for Gramps when I say... no. Safety issues."

"What, you don't trust me?" Spud questioned.

"Not with a flammable object, I don't."

"Whatever. How bout Sludge Mummies 2? I got that Spring Break, remember?"

"Unfortunately. Apparently, you made Trixie watch it with you ten times."

"Eleven."

"Dude, I'm hanging up! Pack what you think is best, a'ight? I've got my own things to do."

On that note, Jake DID hang up, and sat there in silence for a few moments, before finally gathering his gear and heading downstairs. It was 8:30. The 'bus' left in thirty minutes.

(End)

Have you ever had a day where you kept hearing the same song over and over, so much that you get it stuck in you head, then it goes away for a few seconds, until the song resurfaces somewhere in the outside world?

This "phenomenon" was occurring in Jake Long's life that particular morning. Like... you know when Mr. Long began singing (or... rapping, I guess) the Laffy Taffy song? Well... then the song came on the radio inside their house. THEN, as Jake was walking to Grandpa's house, the guy inside the ice cream truck (or, van... really- is an ice cream truck really a truck, or a van?) was playing it. And once he reached the shop, guess who was singing it there?

No, not Grandpa. Wouldn't that be hilarious, though? I mean, really...

Nah, it was Trixie. THAT made more sense, of course. Maybe that's stereotyping, though. You be the judge.

So here it was. Quarter 'til nine, and everyone was there... well, scratch that, there was no Spud.

"Where could he be?" Grandpa asked from the driver's seat of the RV. He was already inside and ready to go. How unfortunate. (For Spud)

"Well... he called me about twenty minutes ago, and he hadn't even began packing, so..."

"I guess he will not be going then! We leave now! Get on!"

"But Gramps..."

"NOW! I want to make the highway before noon!"

Jake and Trixie sighed. Wow... looks like they really would have to leave Spud...

They walked sadly up the two-step stairs and into the RV.

They heard the engine roar to life.

Well, technically, it wasn't really a roar. More of a whirr. I mean, show me a camper that roars when it starts, and I'll eat my Sprite bottle. Anywho...

Jake stared toward the front of the camper, and then realized something.

"Um... no one here has their driver's license, do they?"

Silence.

"Great. Just great, guys. Dammit, what are we supposed to do now?"

"Well, Fu has his dog license..."

"ENOUGH WITH THE DOG LICENSE STUFF; YOU PULLED THAT LAST TIME!"

"Maybe I can be of some assistance..."

The voice was unfamiliar, yet familiar at the same time. As in- it wasn't a voice that they necessarily heard in person, but they HAD heard it.

"Um, Gramps... why is James Earl Jones in our camper?" asked Jake.

"Voice of Mufasa on Lion King, duh," Fu chimed in,. "We're all Disney characters here... we all owe each other something."

"Oh... I never thought of it that way...," said Jake.

"Yes, well," James Earl Jones said, "I'm only taking you all to the RV Park in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Then, some other totally unrelated celebrity will drive you to your next spot. It's like the Underground Railroad. Wait, no it's not. Wait... it is. Ah, never mind. Give me the wheel."

Grandpa relinquished the driver's seat, and James sat down and turned on the radio. "I hope you don 't mind if we listen to CNN Radio here.

"No, we don't mind, but... why?" Fu asked.

"THIS IS CNN," James Earl Jones' voice blared through the speakers.

"That's why."

"Wow... how much money do you make every time they play that?"

"Does it matter?"

"Eh, no..."

"Alright, then. We need to roll if we want to get into Harrisburg before sundown. Let's move!"

He put the RV into gear, and slammed the accelerator to the floor.

BAM!

"What happened?" screamed James.

"Dude... you put it in reverse!" Jake yelled. "You ran into the back of the garage!"

"That's not all he ran into..." Trixie added.

"NO! Not my cardboard cut-out of Lindsey Lohan!" Fu exclaimed.

"Too bad! We're leaving!" James Earl Jones threw it into drive, and the camper lurched forward this time, and out the garage door.

But lo, James then slammed on the brakes.

"WHAT NOW?"

"It's Spud!" Trixie said, pointing at the boy that had stood in front of the camper, preventing it from leaving. Kinda like that guy who stood in front of those tanks in Tiananmen Square. Man, he's my hero...

The camper door was thrown open by Spud, who seemed both out of breath and in complete horror. "HURRY! GET US OUT OF HERE!"

"Spud, what's..."

"I just saw Dick Cheney out on the street! Do you want to be shot?"

"Hell no!" James Earl Jones yelled. He floored it in the right direction this time, and the camper screeched out of the garage and onto the road.

And as the RV reached the city limits and prepared to board the highway, it was said that you could hear the faintest sound of a shotgun in Central Park. Let's hope it had something to do with Jack Nicholson. Really...

(End)

So here they were an hour later.

Grandpa and Fu were asleep in the back bedroom.

James Earl Jones was bored and had resorted to counting the number of times he heard his voice on CNN.

Spud was watching Sludge Mummies 2. And, of course, Trixie was watching it with him. She claims it beat listening to CNN.

Jake was actually getting a dose of three noises- the two old timers' snoring, some Commie reporter on CNN, and Sludge Mummies 2. How on earth was he keeping his sanity?

I don't know, but this was becoming the most boring road trip. And we can't have that, can we? So I decided to make something happen.

They had to get off the highway for a few minutes because of a detour, so they pulled off into a town called Coconut. Weird name. But not nearly as weird as what happened next.

BAM!

"Dammit, Mr. Jones... what'd you run into this time?"

"Nothing!"

"Holy shit...," Jake's eyes widened as he watched...

"The freaking left-middle tire just blew off!"

See, this RV had six wheels... two in front, two in middle, and two in back. And for reasons unbeknownst to even myself, one of them flew off.

"FORE!" James Earl Jones yelled as the tire went careening towards a group of pedestrians on the sidewalk.

It first smashed into a car. A Hummer, to be exact.

"Man, I hope they had just saved 15 percent on their car insurance by switching to Geico...," Spud added.

It bounced off the Hummer... and hit someone.

But not just anyone. THE one.

"...that guy that got hit; he was Chuck Norris, wasn't he?" Trixie asked Jake.

"...yeah, I think it is."

"Goody."

"I just hit Chuck Norris? DAMN!" the driver screamed, and once again floored the RV.

"We only have five tires!" Spud yelled.

And once he said this, the camper began to lean to the left...

"Shit. Everyone, go shift all the weight to the right!"

"Alright!" everyone agreed. The three teens, Grandpa, and Fu stood opposite where the tire had blown off- about right above the right side tire.

Jake stared out the window.

"Um... Chuck Norris is chasing us."

"So?"

"Well... he's catching up."

"We need more weight!" James yelled. "Quick, begin piling all the luggage on the right side!"

"Man... where's Michael Moore when you need him?" asked Spud.

"Right here."

"Mr. Moore?" Spud stared at the huge man that had somehow appeared right beside him.

"Nah, it's me," came Jake's voice. Put simply, it was a costume. "I got this for Halloween. It's got all his body weight and everything."

"Wow... that makes no sense!"

"Glad to hear it."

"It's working!"

It WAS working. The camper had begun to even out, and now, it seemed like they were pulling away from Chuck Norris...

"Uh, Mr. Jones? How far do we have to go? I dunno how much longer we can hold this..."

"Seven more hours. I'd suggest that you all take a long nap... but stay there. Chuck Norris does not slow easily."

"So we noticed."

(End)

And so, now we join the merry bunch seven hours later. Everyone was sound asleep- except for James Earl Jones, who had officially counted his voice clip on CNN 60 times since they had left New York. Grandpa had actually became a dragon to provide more balance, and it had helped. Besides the slight lean, you could barely notice that the camper was missing a wheel.

It's probably illegal, though. So it was definitely a good thing when the Harrisburg RV Park came into view. They were also about out of gas. And butter. So they had to use margarine. That doesn't matter, though. ...or does it?

"We're here, everyone!" James Earl Jones called from the driver's seat. Slowly, everyone awoke.

So as soon as James had brought the RV to a complete stop, everyone rushed out of it. You see, the bathroom broke down somewhere along the New York state border.

But, you know what sucks?

All that weight holding the camper straight was now gone.

So you know what that means...

BAM! The camper came falling, James Earl Jones and all.

"Thanks, guys," he coughed, climbing out of the camper.

They were already gone, so... talk about a lost cause.

Anyway, it took about ten minutes before all of them were out of the bathroom. After that, it was time to look for a new tire.

But that could take a while.

So thus went the entire group, down the dirt road to the other campers... where more surprises than... well, non-surprises would face them.

Perhaps it was almost fitting, as their figures became smaller and smaller as they ventured down the road, that this possibility would be realized, as a dark, shadow-like figure appeared behind a tree on the side of the road, watching patiently, waiting to strike...

END CHAPTER

Aight! Finally updated. And now that we're on the road, this should start to get good next chapter. So... read and review! Bye!

YFWE


	3. FedEx Hates RV Parks

Well, I have a relatively quick (for me) update today. I'd like to thank the two of you that read it, and without any further ado... here we go!

First though... thanks to reviewers of the last chapter!

TerraNova: Gah! You've come back! XD Hehe... so yeah, Jake and Rose will have some moments together... you reviewed a bit too late for me to get them in this chapter, but... I'll see what I can do next chapter.

Also thanks to DanMat, Lavenderpaw, and writingcat!

Dragon in Paradise 2

YFWE

Ch. 3: FedEx Hates Trailer Parks Like George Bush Hates Black People

"How hard is it to find a spare tire 'round here?" Jake commented as they continued their quest to find their replacement left-center tire around the Harrisburg RV Park. Their group, at this point, consisted of Jake, Trixie, and Spud, because Fu had been stricken with a "medical emergency" (a.k.a., an extended meeting with the public restroom) and Grandpa had decided it would be best he stay with Fu in his dire time of need.

Hehe, that last part sure sounded cheesy.

And then, what about James Earl Jones? Um... I really don't know what happened to him. Something about Oprah Winfrey and a trailer. I'll let you make that call.

So anyway, you'd think that a spare tire in an RV park would be easy to come by. But not at the Harrisburg RV Park. No... according to initial park tenant they encountered, they had been gone for nearly two years.

"We used to have so many spares, it wasn't even funny," the man said. He had claimed that he had lived in the park since its inception in '95, back when they 'won their independence from the British.' They weren't exactly sure what he meant by that, but for the time being, they decided to let it slide.

"So... what happened?" asked Trixie.

The man stood in silence for a few moments, before finally speaking, "FedEx happened."

Awkward silence.

"What about FedEx?"

"It was a dark and stormy night," the man recalled, "and take that to heart, because everything bad happens on a dark and stormy night."

"My fifth wife (now ex) had just settled down for the night, when we heard a loud... BANG!"

He emphasized the word 'bang', which made everyone jump up in surprise.

But then he ceased speaking.

"So... what? What was the bang for?" Jake asked.

"Hm? Oh, I dunno, really. My wife (God rest her soul) thought it was some aliens landing on our roof, but... I honestly don't think the roof could've held that much weight. Personally, I think the bang was just some thunder. It was storming, you know. Remember that?"

"Yes sir! I mean... wait, I'm sorry about your wife...," said Trixie.

"Hm? Aw, no... I killed her."

"Awkward...," Spud chimed in.

"Alright. Now... where was I... oh, right, how Bush fixed the 2004 election..."

"Um... that's not what we were talking about..."

"It wasn't? Hm... well, do you wanna hear about it anyway?"

"Sure!" Spud jumped up with glee.

"Um... no, don't mind him," Jake said, clamping a hand over Spud's mouth, "he doesn't really want to hear about it."

"Then why'd he say he wanted to?"

"Er... he has... turrets!"

"Hey! No I..."

"Whatever," the man sighed. "So... a few minutes after the bang, this guy shined this flashlight into our window."

"Was he from FedEx?" Spud asked.

"Nah. It was Smokey the Bear. Something about saving the trees and preventing forest fires."

"Wow... how many things were YOU smoking that night?" Spud said, eyes wide and mouth curved up into a hysterical smile.

"Obviously, not enough, because I still remember enough to tell y'all the story."

"Now... we waited another five minutes or so, and then I decided I had to use the john. So I walked outside, and guess what I saw?"

"A FedEx guy?" Jake asked.

"A FedEx cargo jet?" Trixie guessed.

"A FedEx guy in a cargo jet with the Kool-Aid Guy and Avril Lavigne in the cockpit?" Spud said. Funny thing is, I think he was serious.

"NO! Well, yes, the little Asian boy is right."

"What up, fools?" Jake raised his arms in triumph.

"There must've been twenty FedEx semis parked in the middle of the road, and employees were all over the place, picking up any and all spare tires and throwing them in the back of the semis. And then they drove off, never to be seen again..."

"What does it all mean?" Spud grabbed his head in agony.

"Well.. we're still not sure why they came, or why they needed the tires, but all we know is that our tires are gone... and they haven't been back since."

"So... like, can't you guys just collect more?" Jake asked.

"Why? They'd just get stolen away again..."

"Eh, whatever. So you're saying there's NONE left?"

"Well... we DO have some tires."

"Really? Where are they?"

"Follow me," sighed the man, leading them to a brown wooden shack a few hundred feet away.

"Look inside there."

"Thanks... uh, what's your name?"

"They call me... Mr. Tibbs."

Awkward silence again.

"Wasn't that from that one old movie..."

"NO!"

"Whatever...," said Jake, as he opened the door of the shack.

The door fell off its hinges.

"Man, I hope they're insured," Spud commented.

The shack itself was very dimly lit. All of the light came from a lone window in the back- and even then, it was dark, considering that it was around seven at night.

"Um... here's the lightswitch," Trixie announced.

And she flipped it on, revealing... well, tires.

However, not just any tires.

"These are big rig tires!"

"Heh, what can I say?" laughed Mr. Tibbs. "We ended up catching the FedEx trucks and stole THEIR tires!"

"I'm even more confused than normal," Spud said. "So... where are the spare tires?"

"Uh... funny story..."

"You know what, never mind," Jake said, sticking his hands under one of the tires, "These'll do."

He tried to lift one.

"Ungh... damn!" he yelled, face rigid and muscles tight, "This is heavy!"

"Yeah... have fun with that...," Mr. Tibbs said, and walked back toward the some of the other RVs.

"Aah!" Jake pulled his hands out from underneath the tire. He turned to Spud and Trixie. "What do we do now?"

"There's NO way that all three of us could carry that!"

"Maybe I should go dragon then...," Jake suggested.

"Hello? Trixie to Jake's common sense! There's all kinds of people outside that could see you! How on earth would you get that tire all the way back to Gramps' RV?"

"Simple. I won't get spotted."

"...whatever, man."

Once again, Jake slipped his hands underneath the closest tire. But this time...

"DRAGON UP!" he yelled, and a brilliant orange flame surrounded him, until the fire diminished, and there stood Jake in his dragon form.

He didn't even have to grunt as he lifted the tire over his head.

What was unfortunate about this was that the tire collided with the top of the shack.

CRASH!

"Jake, you dumbass."

"Everyone get outta here!" Jake yelled.

The trio sped out of the crumbling shack, getting out just in time to see the shack fall on the huge tires. In other words, the shack roof didn't fall very far.

"Smart move, Jake. Now the locals are gonna be after us," Trixie sighed.

"Dude, I SO do not have time for this," Jake growled, flapped his wings once, and took to the sky.

"Jaaakke...," Spud whined, "What do you want us to do?"

"I dunno... think of something," Jake called back. "I've gotta get this tire back."

And so, off he did go, as fast as he possibly could, as they did not wish to be spotted by any locals. But perhaps the shack collapsing would provide some sort of distraction for Jake. Then again, it was only a slight crash- not a big deal.

Soon enough, the tipped RV was in sight. "Damn, we walked pretty far," he commented as he soared tire-first towards the camper.

BAM!

Jake hit the ground, luckily. Not the camper. That would suck. Stranded in a Pennsylvania RV Park. I smell a sitcom.

Jake quickly reverted to human form and prayed that no one had seen him.

Luckily, it appeared no one had. So... what now?

"...yeah, this tire isn't gonna fit on our camper," Jake said to himself lightly, sighing as he leaned his weight up against the tire.

He was almost able to doze off a few moments later... that is, until Grandpa arrived. And we all know that Grandpa plus seeing oversized tire equals Grandpa becoming angry.

Oh, you didn't know that?

Well, you will now.

"Jake? What is this humongous tire doing here? And where is our replacement tire for the RV?"

"Weeeellll... funny thing happened... not sure you'd believe me..."

"Try me."

"Okay. FedEx stole all their spares so all they have is big rig tires."

Silence.

"Told ya you wouldn't believe me," Jake said sheepishly.

"Well, cookies for you, then. What do we do now?" Fu asked.

"What else is there to do," sighed Grandpa. "We must use this tire."

"...how?"

"I have no idea. I guess... Jake, go get a jack and let us go from there."

Muttering indistinctly, Jake walked off toward the main office of the park. He wasn't exactly sure where to look for a jack, so... he thought that the main office would at least be a start.

"Jake! Wait up!"

It was Spud. Apparently, he had been able to escape the evil clutches of the locals.

"Uh... where's Trixie?"

"Well... remember how the author was just saying that I somehow escaped the evil clutches of the locals?" asked Spud.

"Dude, that happened like five seconds ago, so yeah."

"Long story short, Trixie wasn't as lucky."

"Ouch," Jake winced. "So... what do we do about her?"

"No idea. I'll try and think of something. Mind if I tag along?"

Jake shrugged, signifying that it was okay with him.

The two of them found the main office, and walked inside.

"May I help you?" came a low, manly voice as soon as they walked inside.

"Um, yes sir... we were wondering...," Spud paused. "Hey, wait, where are you?"

As the two of them scanned the room, they saw... well, not much, really. There were... a few chairs, a desk, and a woman sitting behind the desk, kind of half-awake. (Or half-asleep. Once again, your call.)

"I said... may I help you?"

"Where are you?" Spud called out.

"I'M RIGHT HERE!"

Jake, as opposed to Spud, stared straight ahead. The voice... it had come from the woman behind the desk. And she was redder than... you know, fill in your own comparison. I'm tired of doing it for you.

"It's a man!" Spud screamed, pointing a finger at the woman.

"Dammit! Security!" she called.

"Wait!" Jake clamped a hand over Spud's mouth. "Don't listen to him. He..."

He paused. What WAS Spud's problem? Well... um, truthfully, you could probably label him as a pot smoker and leave it at that, but that would just be giving him too much credit.

"He- what?" asked the he-she receptionist impatiently.

"Uh... he has turrets."

"FAG!" Spud slapped Jake on the head. Sure brain-cell killer right there. Kinda like paint fumes. Hehe... silent but violent.

"See what I mean?" exclaimed Jake. "It's quite sad, actually. You should've seen him at Bush's Inauguration Speech."

"No... I was yelling those things willingly! I really DID think that he was gonna ruin the nation's economy and that Cheney was gonna shoot one of his friends in a tragic hunting accident! And look what's happened! Maybe I'm psychic..."

"Doubt it. Anyway, ma'am," Jake said warmly, "I came in here to ask if we could use one of the jacks... we need to change a tire outside."

"Then you've come to the right place," the woman boomed. "Hold on; I'll go see if I can steal one from our mechanic... be back soon! Feel free to look around... but PLEASE don't let HIM," she wagged a large, meaty finger at Spud, " get outta your sight."

"Yes sir!" Spud saluted her. "I'll keep Jake under close watch. I'll be so secretive, he won't even know he's being watched!"

"I wasn't talking to you- oh, never mind." She slammed the door on her way out.

Once he was sure that she was gone, Jake said to Spud, "Spud, dude... you gotta calm it down a bit. I mean, I know he... she... was a little questionable in terms of... well, a few things, but you still gotta keep it under control. Okay?"

No answer.

"Spud, where the hell are you?"

"Shh. I am one with the wall. You don't see me."

"Spud... you do know that you're wearing black clothes and are up against a white wall, right? I can see you."

"She-man told me to watch you. I shouldn't keep you outta my sight."

"She was talking to me, dumbass."

"Don't steal my moment of glory!" Spud cried. "Go back to whatever you were doing... just pretend I'm not even here."

"Well, that won't be too much of a stretch for me then, will it?"

So Jake went over and sat down in one of the few chairs that the office actually had (which was, like, two). Meanwhile, Spud continued to stare at Jake from afar.

That is, until _she_ came in.

Who is she?

Well, she had long brown hair... and you know what? I'm not even gonna describe anything else, because we might have younger children reading this. Let me put it this way to you- Spud, and probably any other normal, warm-blooded American was attracted to her because of, um, this feature.

See what I'm getting at here? Cool.

Instantly, Spud leapt from the wall and dashed to the help desk.

"May I help you?" he asked in his best store clerk impression, although it came off more as a bad Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation. Don't ask me how it happened... it just did.

"Um... where's Ms. Mahn?" she asked, a bit confused.

Cue Jake, cracking up at the name in the background.

Apparently, however, Spud didn't notice this. He just noticed... um, there we go again, never mind.

"Hello? You gonna answer?" she said impatiently.

"I'm sorry," Jake stood up from his chair after finally getting over his laughing fit. "He has ADD. He kinda gets that way sometimes."

"I DO NOT have ADD, and I DO NOT have turrets!" Spud screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Sad, isn't it," Jake sighed. "Anyway... Ms... (slight chuckle again) Mahn, I think, went to the mechanic's place. If you wait here, she might come back in a few..."

"Nah, it's okay, I'll come back later. Thanks...," then she paused and smiled at Spud, "You're a very special boy, you know that?"

"Oh yeah," Spud grinned absentmindedly.

She grinned too. Jake couldn't really tell if it was a true smile, or kinda fake, but he knew that it wouldn't have mattered to Spud either way.

"Bye...," she waved, grinning once more as she walked out the door.

"Dude," Spud sighed slowly, "She totally wants me."

"Whatever you say, man."

END CHAPTER

Hehe, so that took a while, didn't it? I actually had most of it done last week, but then we went on vacation. Next chapter should come a lot quicker. Oh, and go see the movie Cars! OMG, it's soooo awesome! Hehe, well, later!

YFWE


End file.
